Page 39 of Ruthless Vow

“I’m tall,” she whispers.

“I’m taller,” I whisper back.

“I’m too tall for a woman. It’s unattractive.”

A bark of laughter escapes me. “Unattractive? Who the fuck told you that?”

She spins to face me, her expression fierce. “Don’t laugh at me. I can’t bear it if you laugh at me.”

The admission startles me, but I don’t react. I suspect that if she realized what those words reveal, she would be appalled.

I shake my head. “I’m not laughing at you, Nicole. I am laughing at the moron who told you that being tall is unattractive. Have you never in your life looked at a fashion magazine? You’re short compared to the models on those pages.” I put my hands on her upper arms and turn her so she faces away from me again. Then I slide my hands back to her shoulders and resume kneading her muscles, pulling her shoulders back as I do. “From now on, you stand straight. Straight and proud. Do you understand?” My tone carries a note of command. “This is not a negotiation. It is an order.”

“Yes. I understand.” Her tone is submissive, subordinate. It reaches straight to my cock. “Leo, please, you must let me go.”

“Who is it that you love?” I ask, thinking that I want to fuck her until she’s mindless, until she forgets the man’s name, forgets he exists. “Who is in danger?”

She takes so long to answer that I think she will defy me, refuse to reveal the name.

“If I tell you, you will help me,” she says, turning to face me.

“Yes.”

Still, she offers nothing. Her expression reveals her indecision.

I wait, patient. Then I stroke the backs of my fingers along her cheek. It is a gesture of affection, of care, a gesture that is wholly unlike me, one that feels foreign and unfamiliar. And right.

“My sister. Sofia. Whoever is setting these bombs targeted my father, then me. I am afraid they will go after her next.”

Not a man. Not a lover. Her sister.

“Tell me where she is. I will have her brought to you. I will keep her safe.”

She tips her head back and stares at the ceiling, her hands balled into fists. Finally, she says, “I don’t know where she is.” Her tone is anguished.

She reaches for the locket around her neck and slides her thumbnail in the groove. She flips it open to reveal two pictures. On one side is a woman with dark hair and dark eyes, her features quite similar to Nicole’s.

“My mother,” she says.

On the other side of the locket is a girl of about fifteen. She has wavy dark hair and dark eyes, a small nose and full lips. Her coloring and the shape of her eyes are the only resemblance to Nicole that I can discern.

“My sister,” she says.

“Where is she?” I ask again. “I’ll send Cassio and Dante to pick her up.”

She raises her gaze to mine, desperation etching her features.

“That’s just it. I don’t know where she is. I haven’t been allowed to see her for over two years. I’ve only been allowed to speak with her three times. In this picture, she’s fifteen. The last time I saw her, she was seventeen. She’s nineteen now.” Her voice catches.

I hold out my hand. “Give me the locket. I’ll have Luca scan her picture. We can use it to help us find her.”

She hesitates, then slowly pulls the thick, silver chain over her head and hands the locket to me.

I open the door and hand the locket to Vito, giving him instructions to relay to Luca. He nods and leaves.

“He’ll bring it right back,” I say. “Now tell me who has her. Give me a place to start.”

She’s torn. I see it in her expression, in the tension that laces her frame.

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